Done the Impossible
by sapereaude13
Summary: One month after Bahamut she realizes that she’s not just sick. The full extent of the trouble she is in hits her hard, and she has no idea what to do. Postgame. BalthierAshe.


The first week after Bahamut, she is busier than she has ever been in her entire life. There is a parade and a banquet to celebrate the mere fact that she is alive. Then there are the meetings. Seemingly endless, but necessary. Finding councilors from her father's era and setting up a timetable for a coronation. It is her suggestion to put it off in favor of restoring Rabanastre's fortunes first. The palace itself is still a mess after the Ifrit bombed the courtyard during the fete months before. She is on a ladder in the throne room pulling down one of Vayne Solidor's banners when she feels sick to her stomach. The nausea is enough to leave her dizzy. She barely remembers staggering to the nearest washroom, and as she washes her face, she knows that she needs to slow down. She doesn't have time to be sick right now.

_She finds him in the guest room furthest from the others. He wants to be alone, but right now, she doesn't want to be. Ashe closes the door and stands at the edge of the balcony watching him. He is hunched over, seemingly watching the water of the Naldoan Sea below the manse. Somehow, she has a feeling that this may be the last time they'll have for a late night chat. Allowing her feet to carry her to his side, she leans against the rail and waits._

_"Tomorrow should be interesting," he mutters flippantly. She grins and looks down, her hair falling in front of her face. Ashe hears his shoes scrape against the wooden decking as he shifts his weight to his other foot. "I thought you and Basch were off strategizing?"_

_She feels her face flush. "I wanted to talk to you." She already knows that it was a bad idea to go to him, but he's become her confidante. "Do you think we stand a chance?"_

_"Of course not," he remarks, and she sighs. "But we've done the impossible over and over again, haven't we, Princess?"_

_"We have at that," she agrees. A slight breeze off the sea gives her the shivers, and Balthier seems to inch closer to her. Speaking of impossible things…_

_"Why are you really here?"_

One month after Bahamut she realizes that she's not just sick. The full extent of the trouble she is in hits her hard, and she has no idea what to do. She has ministers and servants and ladies in waiting now, but she has no one to confide in. Looking to the ruins of the Bahamut for answers solves nothing. Rather, it makes her feel that much more alone. Thinking as clearly as she can, she decides that she has the luxury of time for at least a little while. Time to figure out her course of action. A niggling voice in the back of her mind, a voice that sounds far too much like him, warns her to be careful. This won't be like planning a banquet or a summit meeting. Ashe waits. She tells no one.

_He knows exactly why she's there. It wasn't as if he was innocent in all this either. She remembers how his skin felt when he gripped her hand in the sands of the Phon Coast, the way his fingers brushed against her back in the Feywood that day as he helped her to her feet, and she most assuredly remembers the quick kiss he'd stolen from her in the Pharos. They've been dancing around this for weeks now, never discussing such things. Even that kiss. He'd just pulled her aside and done it, then walked away leaving her breathless._

_"There's something here, isn't there? With us?" she asks timidly, wishing that he would turn to meet her eyes. "Isn't there, Balthier?"_

_He finally makes a move, his hand reaching up to brush her hair from her face, tucking the strands behind her ear. "It's more than just 'something', Princess." His response seems to make her heart beat even faster, and though her mind and her duty are screaming for her not to, she grasps his hand and pulls it back to her face, trying to enjoy the feeling of his hand against her cheek._

Three months after Bahamut, she is working far too hard during the day. On this day, she spends eight hours on her feet touring Nalbina to greet the people and survey the rebuilding of the fortress. When she collapses, everyone assumes it is heat exhaustion. When she wakes, she is in the home of a local resident, and her entire entourage is waiting to take her back to Rabanastre. As the woman presses the damp cloth against Ashe's clammy face, the Princess wonders how much gil it will take to buy the woman's silence.

Fortunately she won't have to. "I won't say a word, my lady. That's a promise." She relaxes a bit until the woman gives her a shrewd look. "But you'd best see a real doctor. And soon." Ashe pulls herself to her feet shakily and thanks the woman. When she emerges into the Nalbina streets, her maids are there to help her into the chocobo-pulled carriage.

She has her maid call for the palace doctor as soon as they return, and he does not appear to be overtly judgmental. He asks questions she expects and explains what she has to anticipate in the upcoming months. As he is packing up his case, she raises her voice and almost doesn't recognize it. She sounds like a little girl again, and she loathes herself for it. "When the time comes…do you have any ideas?"

He sighs and takes a seat at the table in her chamber. "The desert climate will not let you evade their concerns for much longer, Your Highness." She bites her lip and waits an agonizingly long time for him to continue. "Are you sure you wish to hide this?"

She nods. "I am not yet crowned. That can be delayed until I recover. But I cannot afford such scandal."

The doctor meets her eyes and frowns. "An illness, perhaps. Clothing will probably be enough until the fifth or sixth, but we'll have to diagnose you with something life-threatening to confine you here for the remainder. Are you willing to do that?"

Ashe wants to scream, but cannot. Her council running Dalmasca for three months? Living as an invalid for that time? The doctor senses her unease and rises from the seat. "I will give you time to think, my lady. I will return tomorrow to check on you." She dismisses him, but he stops with his hand on the doorknob. "Forgive me, Your Highness, but…this will only help me to know if there will be any risks. I am aware of illnesses and disorders from your family, but do you know if the father…"

"He's dead."

The older man nods sadly. "I see. I apologize for prying." He departs, and she is once again alone. Pulling the blanket down slightly, she examines her belly, tracing her fingers over it. She feels as lost as ever.

_Even as she is holding his hand there, she can't help muttering. "We shouldn't. We can't." Tomorrow, they are successful or they die, and both scenarios do not lend themselves well to more than simple camaraderie with Balthier. If they die, they die. But if they live…_

_"I know." She drops her hand away, but he keeps it firmly pressed against her face. "But you still came here, Ashe. Five minutes more, and I'd have been on my way to see you. What does that tell you?"_

_"That we're both idiots," she says sadly, and his soft laughter nearly drives her to tears. Why did this happen? Why did a Princess find someone who wouldn't stand still, and why did a sky pirate find someone who was bound by duty? Their lives were too different. She feels like she should walk away before it goes too far to turn back, but she realizes that she's already gone past that point. The second she stepped in the room she knew exactly what would happen._

_When he kisses her this time, it isn't some stolen moment in a drafty ancient building. This time there isn't that calculated smirk on his face, but a desperate longing. His hands are touching every bit of her that he can, as if he is committing her entire form to memory. Whatever happens tomorrow, they have tonight. She is almost grateful that he chose a room so far from the others. It feels right despite her reservations, and she enjoys every kiss, every caress…knowing it might be the last one._

The heat is extraordinary in Rabanastre when she reaches the sixth month, and it is nearly impossible to hide it now. She's been pretending to cough on and off for a week, and finally the doctor informs her council that she has been afflicted with the Ozmone sickness. Not communicable, but months of bed rest. Her council is saddened, but she is able to hold court from her bedchamber in the morning, the mound of blankets doing a far better job of concealing the inevitable than her gowns ever did.

Yet every time she sees her maid Ilyra now, she feels ashamed. Ilyra is from a good family, and to serve her country, Ilyra has recently announced her pregnancy. Ilyra is not pregnant. And the future Queen of Dalmasca will be showing the girl mercy by taking in the maid's child and educating him or her at court. The plan seems flawless, but it drives Ashe to tears. She has ruined Ilyra's reputation and no matter how many times Ilyra says it is for the good of the country, Ashe wishes there was another way. She looks to Bahamut less and less now.

_It's the middle of the night when she knows she should leave. She can't be found in his room in the morning. His face is so peaceful in sleep that she doesn't want to disturb him, but she won't leave without saying goodbye. Ashe lets her fingers run along his jaw and up to the sideburns he so carefully sculpts. As he stirs, she looks down at his bare arms, his chest, everything that will be covered up again and taken away from her tomorrow. Today, she corrects herself, and he opens his eyes to watch her._

_"I have to leave now," she whispers, pressing her lips to his forehead. He nods, and she can tell he's trying to think of something witty to ease the mood some, but she's glad he doesn't. Instead he pulls her hand to his mouth and kisses each knuckle and releases her. She gathers the scattered bits of her clothing from the floor and can't look behind her. If she does that, she knows she'll stay. When she's dressed again, she knows he's standing behind her. Her voice nearly cracks. "See you in the morning."_

She has been confined to her chambers for nearly three months now. Ilyra has been with her for the last one, serving as her personal maid. Only Ilyra and her doctor know the truth. It wasn't actually as painful as she'd thought. Having lost her parents, her brothers, Rasler…and Balthier...physical pain was a trifling matter in comparison. She stares down into the cradle that is set up near the bed, the baby inside it seems both foreign and familiar to her. The baby is hers, but at the same time it cannot be. When the other women of court come to fuss, it is to Ilyra they offer congratulations. Ashe is still technically in recovery from the Ozmone sickness and must stay away. Little Alia is hers only at night.

One more week, and she can get back to life at court. Dalmasca has managed to prosper despite the confinement of its leader, and she is eager to be active once more. But the thought of Alia being without her during the day will be a difficult burden. Perhaps she shouldn't have lied? She watches her daughter sleep and does not bother to wipe away her tears.

--

She has been active again at court for two months. Her coronation is a month away, and plans are already being made for a grand affair. If Ashe had her way, she'd be crowned and could retreat to her chambers where Ilyra and "Ilyra's baby" have taken up residence. As the child's future patron, she didn't have to work too hard to make that arrangement. She is on her way to nurse her daughter when the letter arrives. Apparently she'd just missed Penelo dropping it off.

Ashe is stunned as the ring falls out of the pouch and into her palm, the metal cool and almost unfamiliar to her. _Give this to our Queen for me…_

--

The coronation has gone successfully, and the banquet is over. She meets Ilyra at the door of her chamber, and the young woman nods. It still pains her to see the smile on Ilyra's face, knowing what Ashe's lies have done to her. Ilyra is very grateful to see her. "She always cries when she sees me, my lady. Hopefully that will change sometime soon, or my ears will never recover," the girl jokes.

Ashe asks for some time alone, and Ilyra is glad to have free time to gossip with the other ladies for a while. The newly crowned Queen enters her chamber and moves to the cradle. Alia seems to gurgle in acknowledgment, and Ashe can't help but smile. Suddenly, she is alerted to the sound of footsteps on the balcony, and she panics. The baby doesn't start to cry, and that gives her time to retrieve the dagger from the night stand. When she sees who it is on the balcony, she doesn't know what to do.

"Quite the celebration." Hearing his voice after so long sends all her memories flooding back, but she thinks to the simple letter from a month before and remembers that she should hate him. "I'm sorry I never came in person. And I heard you were sick, but I didn't want to bother you. I thought it for the best, but as you can see, I couldn't stay away too long…" She watches his eyes drift past her into the darkened bedchamber.

"My maid, Ilyra," is all she says as he wanders into the room and over to the cradle. She stays back as she watches Balthier. His face seems confused, and she wonders if he'll be able to figure it out. And if he does, Ashe has no idea what she'll do.

"How old?"

Ashe closes her eyes and breathes. "Three months." Is he doing the arithmetic?

His eyes don't seem to be leaving the infant in the cradle. "What were you ill with? Ozmone something or other?" He knows. She's fooled everyone, and it takes Balthier the space of a minute.

"Ilyra was unwed, so I thought it best to take her and the child in. She'll be raised at court." The lying came so much easier with her ministers, with the courtiers…and as he reaches his hand in to touch the baby, she can't help it. "Don't!"

Balthier stops with his hand hovering over the cradle. "Three months…" he remarks with an unsteadiness in his voice that she'd never heard from him before. "Three months and then nine months puts it at…"

"Yes," is all she can say. She slowly walks over to stand at the foot of the cradle, watching the way his eyes seem transfixed on Alia's tiny form in the crib.

It is very hard to watch him. Ashe wants so badly to hate him. For dying. And then for not dying and staying away. But the awe in his face, the realization that he knows exactly what role he played in all of this is almost endearing. She lets him drift a hand down to fiddle around with the baby blanket, and she notices how his hand shakes.

"If I'd been here…" he starts, and she cuts him off.

"The same choices would have been made." He looks up at her response, and he understands. She would have had to suppress Alia's existence no matter what. "Officially, she is Ilyra's daughter. And she always will be."

His voice is hoarse and rasping. "You can't…"

"What would you have me do? I've done everything possible to keep her near me. I can do nothing more."

"I should have come back. I pissed away all that time. Easier to steal when everyone thinks you're dead. And I can't begin to imagine…" He finally looks away from the infant and grabs her hand. "Ashe, I'm sorry."

"Sorry doesn't help right now, Balthier. Nor does it change anything." His apology eases her own pain, but it cannot do anything for Alia.

"What's her name?"

She squeezes his hand. "Alia. Ilyra let me choose the name, although she does so much of the work while I am at court." Ashe watches Balthier turn away, and he pinches the bridge of his nose. "You should probably…" The words are painful to speak. Since his letter came, she's dreamed of having him around once more. To yell at him, to curse him for not coming around. And to hold him again. "You should probably go, Balthier. Someone will hear."

Ashe watches Alia's father run a gentle hand over her head, and he finally steps away. He puts his fingers under her chin and forces her to look at him. "I promise to be here. I swear to you." He kisses her gently, and she has no choice but to believe him.

"You said to me…that night you told me that we've done the impossible. Why does this seem so much harder than that?"

He gives her a faint smile. "Probably because it is." He kisses her forehead and squeezes her hand. "We'll get through this together."

"Because we're both idiots?" she asks with a grin.

Balthier releases her and moves back to the balcony. "Exactly." She does not feel the sense of loss at his departure that she's felt this past year. She knows he will be back. And after twelve months of lying, she doesn't feel alone.


End file.
